The Ikessar Falcon

by Villoso, K. S.

My earliest memories consisted of sipping tea with the warlords and pretending to be interested in everything they had to say. Lo Bahn was right, at least, when he said that I had made a habit out of judging men and their intentions. From the moment I was old enough to sit quietly, my father had brought me to every meeting and bade me to observe. Once, I had fallen asleep—my father stopped the meeting long enough to strike my arm with his cane. “You missed Lushai licking his lips,” he told me later. “You don’t close your eyes in front of the enemy, Talyien, not for a single moment.”

  “Enemy?” I remember asking. “I thought he was your friend, Father.”

  “You thought. Never assume.” Yeshin’s voice could cut deeper than a sword.

  There was even a game he taught me, one that was supposed to amuse me during formal occasions or meetings with warlords, though clearly his intentions went beyond. The object required you to look at the people around you and strip them off everything—their expensive clothing, their weapons, their lands, their titles, their people—before putting them in a precarious situation such as a famine or war. And then you tried to imagine what they would do next if you wielded the answer to their problems. Would they bargain with you? Work together with you? Kill you at first light?

  I had played the game in those hours the morning before we broke into the governor’s office in Anzhao, staring at the people I was working with—the people with whom I seemed to share my life with now, for better or worse.

  Agos I was sure of, without a shadow of a doubt. Stranger though he seemed, the memory of my oldest companion was difficult to erase. Even his scent was pleasantly familiar, reminding me of home as it had been—before I was crowned, before Rayyel. Of hot afternoons chasing after dragonflies, stuffing them into glass jars and watching them whiz around before letting them go by dinnertime, and childhood games played with sandals and chalk. Even the way he breathed, the sound of it, brought back memories of his mother’s cooking—sour fish stew with red onions and tomatoes, my father’s favourite, or cubes of pork belly with green chiles, coconut milk, and shrimp paste, or her specialty: squash and fish patties, fried to a crisp perfection.

  Captain Nor was different. Even before she had expressed her doubts in the hours that followed, I was aware that her loyalty was old-fashioned, an Oren-yaro’s through and through. Which wouldn’t have been a problem in the old days if she was sworn to me as Lady of Oren-yaro instead of as Queen. But the idea of the Dragonthrone had muddled our priorities, if my own disjointed choices were any indication. She had not liked the idea of her own men choosing my father’s words over their loyalty to me. How far would it take her?

  I heard someone cough before I got to the rest. My thoughts dissipated, and I remembered finding myself staring into Khine’s eyes—Khine, ever the enigma. I liked his company and I liked his ideas, but he was not my servant, not even a Jinsein. Another person, born in the midst of complex relationships rather than observing from afar like I had my whole life through, might have had an easier time untangling the threads.

  “Overthinking the world again, I see,” Khine said.

  “You’ve got your faults, I’ve got mine.”

  “Care to share any?”

  I crossed my arms, not knowing how to explain. He would think I was crazy. I found myself oddly aware of how strange my upbringing was. Born to be Queen, yes, but around Khine, I felt out of my element. As if I was the one stripped of all the trappings that held me up, that gave my world reason and meaning.

  “Can’t a woman have any secrets?” I said instead, smiling.

  “She could, as long as they don’t eat her up.”

  It’s too late for me, I wanted to tell him. “Your concern is touching, Lamang. But I think I’ll be all right.”

  “If you say so,” Khine said, turning towards me with bright, unreadable eyes. He blew my father’s game out of the water.

  Now, staring at the inn from the street, the one where the Shadows’ agent said my people were staying at, I felt my resolve falter. Judging people was all well and good when nobody’s life was at stake. Lo Bahn had accused me of seeing this as nothing more than a game. What stung was that he wasn’t wrong. What else was I, if not Queen of Jin-Sayeng, if not Yeshin’s heir? The wind had more substance.

  The moon was a deep red that night, as if someone had lit a paper ball on fire and stuck it onto the black sky. It gave the empty streets an eerie glow, reminiscent of a candle-lit hallway. I left the horses by the cherry trees before hefting myself up to the rooftop like a common thief. I wasn’t sure that striding into the inn and announcing my presence was the wisest thing in the world. Memories from the last few months—of escaping one situation after another—had left a bad taste in my mouth, and the thought of more was enough to make my hands shake.

  I caught sight of Agos from one of the windows. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, a lantern burning merrily on the table beside him. Even at the late hour, he was wide awake, staring at the wall with red-rimmed eyes. I hesitated, fighting against that old instinct to go running to him first for help.

  The guilt was like a fire, spreading. I remembered my wedding day, listening to the priestess say, “Love carries us like a river…” and looking away from her and the sea of solemn faces to my new husband, running ahead with my own thoughts. And then with a hand around our neck, tries to drown us in our ignorance. Harsh words from a young woman standing beside her young, handsome prince. I remembered uttering my vows while my gaze skipped past the statue of Kibouri’s Nameless Maker and towards the silent, austere Agos, who was standing near the altar, ready to throw himself at anyone who might dare interrupt such an important occasion. The night we had spent three days before felt like a bad dream. I was resolved to put it behind me, just like I had asked him to: “Never speak of this again,” finished, erased.

  Easier said than done. The shame of my moment of weakness had haunted me for years. It was true he was mine to command, but indulgence was not the sort of ruling my father had raised me for. But where did indulgence end and respite begin? Was I never allowed to breathe?

  My thoughts took me away from his window to another a few rooms down. This room, too, was well-lit; I spotted Khine with his back to the wall, arms crossed, as if he had fallen asleep in mid-conversation. He was alone. I drifted towards him with every intention to watch him for a few moments, to settle into my thoughts over how he made me feel before I whispered my goodbyes. Just a few moments. But as soon as my hand touched the wooden shutters, his eyes snapped open.

  “You—” he began.

  The look of relief on his face made me want to weep.

  I stood aside as he unclasped the window, silently chastising myself. Three horses—one for me, two for my guards. What was I doing here? It was his employer that had betrayed me. He stepped out onto the rooftop, under the moonlight in his thin jacket. He was barefoot, unshaven. “You escaped,” he breathed.

  “Did everyone else?”

  “Cho and Thao are with their friends. Inzali went with Lo Bahn’s steward—they’re working on filing a report to gain custody of his children. The whole thing reeked of an illegal arrest…I’m not sure why Governor Qun thought he could get away with it.” Khine paused from his rambling, still gazing at me as if he was dreaming. “How did you escape?”

  “The Shadows,” I found myself murmuring.

  “You mentioned them before. Don’t they work for your husband’s clan?”

  “They insist they don’t, anymore. That they’re pledged to me now. They have a ship in An Mozhi waiting to take me home.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to consider it.”

  “They’re giving me time to think it over. They’re waiting for me to finish this whole business with Rai. Dai Kaggawa wants my cooperation.”

  “Did you tell them you were smarter than that?”

  I gave him a pained look.

  “Unless—you are! You’re going to do it. Gods, Tali.”


  “I want to go home to my son.”

  Khine shook his head. “People like that can smell desperation. They know it and they’ll use it against you. I warned you before, didn’t I? Before you know it, they’ll have your back up to the wall with a blade on your throat. How are you going to fight back, then? You’d knowingly walk into a trap?”

  “I’ve done it before,” I mumbled.

  “That sort of fatalistic attitude…”

  “I’m aware,” I said. I sat down.

  He settled beside me with a soft sigh. “There’ll be another way.”

  “It’s been months, Khine. We’ve done all we can. Even without the embargo in place, we don’t have enough coin to hire a ship. Telling people who I am is dangerous. And then there’s Qun. The bastard’s got it out for me…I don’t even know what for. But he’s not just going to let me sail off here.” I curled my hands into fists and took a deep breath. “First I have to stop Rayyel. There’s no point going home with that hanging over our heads.”

  “You still don’t know where he is.”

  I glanced back at him. “I do. Qun had Jien Hatzhi arrested, too. The Ruby Grove. The mages Rayyel seek have been sending shipments to the featherstone mines there.”

  “How is Jien Hatzhi?”

  “I’m sorry, Khine.”

  The expression on his face changed. “Fucking Qun,” he whispered, turning away. I wondered if his tone of voice was meant for me. “The featherstone mines. Those were abandoned years ago. Nobody lives in the towns anymore.”

  “It’s a good spot to hide illicit activities.”

  Khine frowned. “Maybe. Featherstone helps enhance connections to the agan, which mages value. At least, that’s what was explained to me once. It is a dangerous substance. It gets into the lungs and has the habit of staying there. Breathe too much of it and you can go into shock and die in a matter of days. Even just getting it on your skin can cause rashes and sores. I’ve treated patients afflicted with featherstone ailments…it’s never pretty. It’s probably not the best place to travel to.”

  “It’s not like I’m planning to start digging for it with my bare hands.”

  “It’s more than that. Just being in the area is dangerous. Featherstone isn’t just in the mines—it’s everywhere. Patches on the ground, along crevices on the cliffs. People learned that too late.”

  “What choice do I have?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I know. It’s dangerous, that.”

  We were silent for a few moments. “I have to go see Agos and Nor, now,” I said, my insides knotting. “Thank you for everything, Khine. For what you’ve done for me since the beginning. I…I came here to say goodbye.”

  He cleared his throat. “What if I went with you?”

  “We only have three horses.”

  “I mean—what if I travelled with you? Alone?”

  The weightless feeling dissipated.

  “I know the area very well,” he continued, unaware of how his words made me feel. “Alone, we’re not risking anyone else. Your guards don’t know yet, do they?”

  “No,” I mumbled.

  “We’ll leave a letter so that they don’t worry. Tell them to stick with Inzali so we know how to reach them afterwards.”

  “How do you know the area?”

  “The Ruby Grove lands border Lay Weng Shio. The mines themselves are an hour north of Phurywa. After people started dying, they left the mining towns. The few that couldn’t afford to go further ended up staying in Phurywa.” Khine rubbed his chin. “My father was a miner. Got us out safely, but not even a year later, he started coughing blood and it killed him in the end. It’s why I had to be a physician in the first place.”

  ~~~

  My body moved even before my mind could finish forming a proper response.

  We crossed the yard as cautiously as two lovers on their way to a tryst. I realized for the first time that my mind was vacant—almost startlingly clear. I wasn’t aware of much else except my racing heart and the starry sky above. The destination didn’t matter. He could’ve told me he was leading me back to Yuebek and I think I would’ve followed, anyway.

  Deadly thoughts. My father’s logic told me I needed to bring Agos and Nor with me, that if I had to risk their lives, then so be it. I needed to put the mask back on and order Khine to guide me as Queen, his moral quandaries be damned. Instead, I took all three horses with us, and we went down the street to buy supplies from the one store that answered Khine’s belligerent knocking. Dried fish, rice, and dried mushrooms made up the bulk of our food stock, with some dried fruit and bread. He also bought blankets, though he said he wasn’t too worried—it was summer and the nights were unlikely to be cold.

  And yet I found myself shivering as I watched Khine exchange words with the shopkeeper. No—this had gone far beyond my father’s logic. I was turning things over in my mind too much, wondering why he was doing this, if this was all merely guilt from his involvement with me or his way of stopping me from causing anymore harm. Irony of ironies—that a man who couldn’t be a physician would instead find himself with the daughter of a murderer. I wish I had better answers.

  In retrospect, I should’ve at least asked my father about all the people who had died for him, all the people he had killed. Contrary to what people believed, Warlord Yeshin was not a mindless murderer—he had a reason for everything he did, twisted as those reasons may be, and he was always ready for a conversation about them with the right people. He wouldn’t have denied such a request from me.

  I could imagine, for example, that he would have a ready answer for the massacre that happened at the Dragon Palace in Shirrokaru, when he marched his army through the butterfly gardens and the elegant ballroom with all its imported furnishings and down to the throne room to seize control from Regent Ryabei. Everyone from Ryabei’s council were dragged up to Yeshin in chains. They were begging for their lives, I was told; about half instantly pledged their support of the new Dragonlord. The heads of Jin-Sayeng became rolling heads on the floor—Yeshin disliked disloyalty, even when it wasn’t directed at him. There was no way he would trust men who gave up on their lord—dead or missing as Rysaran the Uncrowned was in those times—so easily.

  And killing innocents? It didn’t trouble him; he once set an entire village that belonged to a bannerman of the Ikessars on fire to draw attention away from one of our own. An eye for an eye, he would’ve said—better than allowing the Ikessars to kill his own to save theirs. There was nothing more dangerous than a man with conviction, one who could rationalize his way out of everything. If someone had asked Warlord Yeshin how he could look at himself after everything he had done, he would’ve broken every mirror in the palace as a response.

  Khine…must detest me. For my husband’s confession, for the stench of death that followed me like a loyal hound, for the things I had done to preserve what little I had. Discomfort over the thought wrestled with the exhilaration over my newfound freedom.

  After we had loaded the third horse with supplies, we cantered down the southern road. Even with the lanterns hanging from the saddles, I couldn’t see much, but the horses were used to the road and didn’t seem to mind the darkness. A confident horse was always a comfort—it at least told you he didn’t think there was anything lurking out there that would eat him.

  We didn’t follow the main road all the way. An hour or so later, we turned into a dusty footpath that slowly rose uphill. Now the horses balked, confronted with a new thing. Khine’s horse was better than mine—when he dug his heels in frustration, it lurched up the switchback, loosening bits of rocks and pebbles as it crossed the path. My mount tried to scramble out of the way, but when he saw Khine and his horse widening the gap between us, he decided that the wisest thing was sticking together and clopped up the trail to join them. I patted his neck in encouragement.

  We allowed the horses to walk at their own pace the rest of the way, bathed in red moonlight.

  “Khine,” I said, testing him. Cold
air and dust stirred with my breath.

  “Yes, Tali?”

  The queen, I realized, was for the others’ benefit, not mine. My heart lightened. I urged my mount faster so that all the horses were nearly nose-to-rump. “You’ve never told me what you think about all of this. You’ve been quiet after what happened down at the docks.”

  “I didn’t think it was my place to comment,” he grumbled.

  “I’m asking you now.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “You used to speak to me honestly about my husband. Was that before you knew what I had done?”

  He didn’t reply.

  I smoothed my horse’s mane as I lurched after the thing that had been nagging me for months. “It is about that,” I said. “You want answers, is that it? Yes—I slept with Agos three days before my wedding night.”

  Khine hesitated. “I suppose I just didn’t take you for the vengeful sort,” he finally managed. “Or the sort who would discard a man after she was done with him.” He glanced behind me for a moment, as if to see if I was still there before looking away, brow furrowed.

  “I didn’t discard him,” I murmured. “I was trying to protect him. I didn’t…well. It’s over now. I can’t take it back. And…” I swallowed. Where was this conversation going? “It wasn’t vengeance. I would never…hurting Rayyel, I mean…”

  The rustling of the leaves sounded like applause. My own words felt hollow, hypocritical. Pretending didn’t undo the past. Ignored like a festering wound, it had grown only bigger. It didn’t matter before, when such judgment was expected. But under Khine’s scrutiny, I could feel myself wilt. Around him, my father’s name felt like a mantle of shame. Bitch queen or frightened girl? What kind of gods would decree such an insurmountable battle for someone responsible for thousands upon thousands of lives?

  “It wasn’t vengeance,” I repeated, my voice cracking.

  Chapter Six

  The Ruby Grove

  My father had four sons before me: four sons who died during the rampage of Rysaran the Uncrowned’s mad dragon in Old Oren-yaro. The details of what happened on that day had been lost over the years—my father was the only living survivor, and his accounts had a tendency to turn into rambling nonsense if he was prodded about the issue too long. Something about a soldier—not a dragon—turning around and cutting my eldest brother Taraji’s head clean off. Other times, he would say it was in fact the second eldest, Senjo, who was responsible for the deed before Senjo himself ran at the dragon, straight into its gaping maw. Later, I would learn about how dragons were connected to the agan, and how Rysaran’s dragon used it to create madness in the air.